


Burned

by lookingforthestars



Series: Games [3]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforthestars/pseuds/lookingforthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Anniversary and Renewed. Walter makes his last stand against his former partner and friend, but Collins has some tricks up his sleeve that no one is prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trapped

Paige was miserable.

She was putting on a brave face for Ralph, of course. The liaison had done that through situations much worse than this. The team supplied them with enough money to tide them over for three months, though she dearly hoped it wouldn't be that long. Because while they were filling their days with a steady diet of takeout, museums, and experiments in their comfortable two-bedroom apartment—rented under the name of Susan Connors, an alias set up entirely by Happy and in which Paige had zero say—there was something fundamentally _missing_. Someone. Multiple someones, actually, but it was Walter's absence that they felt the most.

In ten years of raising Ralph mostly or entirely on her own, Paige thought it was them against the world. She'd resolved never to rely on anyone else, never to let in another person who was bound to disappoint them. But an airplane's software system had crashed three years ago, and that twist of fate led to a life neither of them could have imagined: dangerous, stressful, unpredictable, wonderful.

They came terrifyingly close to losing all of that to Collins. Paige understood why it was safer for her and Ralph to hide. She'd had to admit that it was the logical course of action. But the eleven and a half days they had been holed up in this town, the name of which she barely remembered, seemed to stretch on for months.

"Can we go to the park tomorrow?"

Ralph's voice pierced through her thoughts, and Paige snapped her attention to him. He was sitting across from her at the breakfast bar and swirling his spoon around in a bowl of soup, following the same spiral pattern repeatedly.

She smirked in amusement. "You want to go outside? Voluntarily?"

"The skateboard ramp is an ideal angle to test my robot on," he shrugged, abruptly changing course and dragging his utensil in the opposite direction.

"Alright, as long as we don't mutilate any teenagers." Paige scraped the last remaining yogurt from her carton and tossed it in the trash, running the spoon under the water and scraping off a speck of fruit with her fingernail. She wasn't really in the mood to eat, but Ralph would have refused dinner if she didn't. "Anything else you'd like to do?"

Ralph was silent, and Paige assumed he was lost in some calculation or another until she turned around from the sink and found him staring directly at her. "It's weird here," he said simply, but he wasn't complaining. That was the voice he used to recite facts.

And Paige understood. There was nothing wrong with the town. They just didn't belong there.

"I know, baby." She let a sigh escape her lips before plastering on one of the fake, cheerful smiles she could tell he saw through but hoped would seem encouraging anyway. "But we just need to make the most of this, okay? If we stay busy, we'll be back home before we know it."

Ralph nodded thoughtfully and bit down on his bottom lip before he said, "Do you think Walter misses us?"

Hearing the genius's name out loud made her chest feel tighter, like a stone was pressing against it. If he missed them half as much as she missed him, she couldn't imagine how he was handling it. Despite what Walter told himself, he experienced emotions more deeply than most. Paige didn't want to think of him being unhappy, even temporarily, but she hoped she wasn't the only one feeling this way. "I'm sure he misses you a lot, Ralph."

"Mmhmm," Ralph murmured as he gathered soup on his spoon and sipped it deliberately. "I hope he's okay."

Paige reached onto the counter, patting Ralph's hand lightly with her own. "Of course he is."

* * *

He was supposed to be fishing.

Cabe hadn't had a full weekend off in three months, but there was a refreshing lack of Homeland crises and Walter wasn't accepting private clients until this mess with Collins was sorted out. The agent offered help where he could, but he didn't know the former Scorpion member like the rest of the team did, and it would likely take a genius to catch a genius.

Even if he couldn't assist in the hunt for Collins, he could still take care of Walter. That was becoming a full-time job in itself. Walter took Paige and Ralph's departure harder than any of them had anticipated, though in hindsight it wasn't surprising. He'd been forced to watch them both on the brink of death—Cabe knew the strain of that experience well—and then sacrifice his last remnant of control in a last-ditch effort to protect them. Walter's emotional capacity was stretched far beyond its limits, and it was taking everything he had to keep from withdrawing into himself completely.

Cabe knew Happy, Toby, and Sylvester wouldn't be at the garage the next day—they needed to recharge and recover, too, after the sixteen-hour shifts they'd been pulling. So the agent left his fishing gear in the closet, where it was collecting dust, and took out a button-down shirt instead, draping it over a chair. It wasn't like he'd be able to relax, anyway.

* * *

_I'm sure you have questions._

At the moment, Walter wasn't able to imagine any question he couldn't answer by beating Collins senseless. He never had much use for violence; his intelligence solved most issues, but right now, it was more than a little tempting. Mark wasn't one for empty threats, though, and whatever his "assurances" were, they were almost guaranteed to negatively impact the people Walter cared about. Putting them at risk for momentary satisfaction would be selfish.

Once his initial wave of rage passed, questions did begin to flood his mind. But Mark's power came from information—secrets, fear, insecurities, weaknesses. One wrong word could provide Collins with all the ammunition he needed.

Walter hunched over in his chair and propped his arms on his legs, mirroring his former partner. "Why are you here?"

The corner of Collins's lips curled up. "Come on, Walter, I know you want to ask me more than that."

"Are you going to answer my questions or not?" he snapped. Mark shrugged impassively. "Why are you here?"

The man stared at Walter with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, like a puzzle to be solved. Walter had gotten used to that look a long time ago. It was how Collins saw everyone and everything, except after unlocking a puzzle, he'd crush it into pieces. "I was in hiding for three months. I disliked it," he said casually. "I'd rather address our issues face-to-face, wouldn't you?"

Collins didn't want to find out what Walter would rather do.

"If that's true, why target Paige and Ralph? Why not just come straight for me?"

He scoffed, a sound that instantly set Walter's nerves on edge. "I could have sworn we'd already had this conversation," Collins mused, straightening up in his chair and squaring his elbow against the back. "But very well. I never wanted the kid to die. As competitive as I am, I have great respect for genius. If, as you suspect, Ralph's intelligence exceeds yours, that would be a loss for the world. Paige Dineen, on the other hand, is expendable. And I never doubted that she would take her son's place. Sentiment is predictable and boring."

The disgust with which he said Paige's name was nearly enough to send Walter lunging toward him, but the genius stopped himself at the last second. "She's surprised you before," he reminded Collins through gritted teeth.

The silence that followed was mildly gratifying. Mark had assumed once that Paige would fall into his trap, collapse under the weight of his manipulations and leave Scorpion behind. But she stood her ground and fought for Walter until they were rescued. While Paige might consistently choose to protect the people she loved, there was nothing boring or predictable about her actions.

But the smirk was back in place almost as quickly as it had fallen. "And I'm sure she didn't regret that decision at all as her precious child was dying in a hospital bed," Collins retorted, his voice mocking as he leaned toward Walter. "Or maybe she enjoyed seeing him in danger? Did it make her feel like a hero? I know how the members of Scorpion love to save poor, troubled souls just to give your lives some semblance of worth."

_Don't give in._

Walter inhaled a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. "You want something, Collins, and it's not to sit here and taunt me. What will it take to make you disappear?"

Mark brought his hand to his chest in a gesture of mock offense. "And all this time, I thought we were having fun," he said wistfully, shaking his head. "Alright, Walter, I'm prepared to lay all my cards on the table. But I don't want any of those idiots you call colleagues interrupting the adults, so I think you should give us some privacy."

Walter stiffened. Collins knew the garage inside and out, perhaps even better than Walter, but there was no way he knew about that.

Then again, he _had_ successfully stored Paige's antidote directly under their noses, and none of them had been the wiser…

"I don't know what you're talking about," the genius said evenly, covertly digging his nails into his palms to control his physical reactions. But he wasn't fooling Collins.

"The lockdown protocol," Mark said condescendingly. "I've known about it since you installed it. It was for me, after all, which I must say is very flattering."

That was true, as much as Walter would've loved to claim that not everything was about Collins. After he and Paige were abducted, the genius spent months developing a cutting-edge security system for the garage that could make it impenetrable in times of emergency. The rotating code that controlled it made it virtually unhackable. Apparently he'd planned for every circumstance except Collins appearing unannounced on a random Friday night.

"I've been dying to see it in action," Mark divulged, as if they were talking about a car. Walter's protests were interrupted almost immediately as Collins held up his hand. "This is not a debate. Either you activate it now or I kill the first person who walks through the door. In fact, I would say I'm doing you a favor, considering how long I've imagined getting rid of this shrine to ineptitude that you consider a team."

Being trapped in the garage with Collins was less than ideal, but it was his best option to protect the others. If he could keep his mental defenses up, he'd be able to stall until he could lift the lockdown. Even Mark needed to sleep eventually. "Fine. The control panel is in my loft."

"Be that as it may…" Collins reached over a stack of papers on Walter's desk and picked up his cell phone, handing it over to the genius. "There's no point in having an emergency lockdown in place if you can't access it from anywhere. Let's not play games, Walt, I'm better at them."

Reluctantly, Walter unlocked the phone and opened the app he designed, pressing the red button and entering the confirmation code. An almost deafening noise swept the garage as the doors locked and sheets of steel extended to cover the windows and reinforce the ceiling. The sound of clanging metal was replaced less than a minute later by eerie silence as the usual hum of outside traffic disappeared.

"Intriguing," Collins said simply, scanning the office to admire the results. He had to have anticipated that triggering the lockdown would also notify authorities, but he seemed unconcerned. The knot in Walter's stomach tightened. This was the beginning. There was more to come. "Answer it."

"What?" Walter suddenly grew aware of ringing from the garage's landline. He shook himself out of his fog. He couldn't allow himself to get lost in his thoughts, not now. With another glance at Mark to confirm, Walter connected the call and put it on speakerphone. "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. O'Brien?"

Collins nodded.

"Yes, I'm Walter O'Brien."

The police officer hesitated, possibly thrown off by Walter's calm demeanor. "We've received a call from your address. Are you currently in need of police assistance or an ambulance?"

Collins shook his head.

"No, it was just a glitch in my system. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

The officer fell quiet, potentially listening for noise in the background, before she answered, "Have a good night, Mr. O'Brien." Walter reciprocated before ending the call and releasing the breath he'd been holding.

He turned back to Collins. "They'll send someone anyway. It's department policy."

"All in due time," Mark said, waving his hand dismissively. "Your bigger concern is the call that'll be coming in from Cabe right about…" He lifted up his wrist to check his watch. "Now."

It wasn't long before Walter felt a vibration in his hand and saw the agent's name on his screen. He froze. Lying to a police officer was one thing, but Cabe wasn't easily fooled.

Collins saved him the trouble. He grabbed the phone from Walter and answered it on speaker. "Kid, you alright?" Cabe said on the other end, sounding breathless. "My friend at the LAPD told me they got an emergency alert from the garage. They said it was nothing, but with all that's been going on…"

"Agent Gallo!" Collins greeted in a loud, overly friendly voice. "Thanks for your call. Walter and I are hashing some things out right now. I'd tell you to come join us, but, well…"

He motioned for the genius to contribute, and Walter rubbed his hands roughly over his face before adding, "We're in lockdown, Cabe. I'm fine, but you need to keep your distance. I don't know what'll happen if you come here."

"Nothing good, that's what!" It wasn't difficult to read a threat between the lines of his joking tone. "I'm sure that won't dissuade you and your Homeland cronies, but I wanted to get this out of the way so Walter won't waste time trying to get a message out. Give us the night, and in the morning I'll return him to you, no harm done. Think you can manage that?"

There wasn't a chance in hell that was what Collins had planned, but until they figured out his real goal, there was only one thing they could do: play along. "Lay a hand on Walter and I'll destroy you. You've got nine hours."

The negotiation was a smokescreen; Cabe would never willingly leave Walter with Collins. But no matter how much firepower Homeland could get their hands on, it wouldn't be enough. Happy had helped him turn the garage into a fortress. Which meant that Walter had until seven a.m. to overpower Collins and lift the lockdown himself. "Cabe," he blurted out before Mark could hang up. "I need you to check on the rest of the team."

_Paige and Ralph._ That's what he really meant. The agent hoped that Scorpion's combined efforts to ensure their safety were paying off now. "I will, Walter. Stay safe."

Collins threw Walter's phone on the floor, crushing it with the heel of his shoe. "Your new life is exhausting," he grumbled before kicking the device across the garage. "Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

Even though it was only ten p.m., Happy sounded groggy and distracted when she answered the phone. "What's up?"

"Are you with Toby?"

There was an awkward pause before the shrink spoke. "Hey, Cabe. We were just—."

The agent cleared his throat before Toby could get into further detail. "I don't care. The two of you need to pick up Sylvester and meet me at Homeland. Bring any details you have about Walter's lockdown protocol. Got it?"

"The lockdown…" Happy repeated slowly, huffing out a breath. "Why? What's going on?"

Cabe stopped short of getting into his truck and pressed his palm against the door, inhaling deeply. Another day, another nightmare, and the hits never seemed to stop coming.

"Walt's in trouble. And we've got nine hours to figure out what the hell Collins is up to."


	2. Locked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

Paige was startled when her phone rang. Since they'd been here, it just…didn't. The sound was so foreign that she thought it was part of the old noir film she was watching, but her eyes fell on the cell peeking out of her bag, screen flashing, and Paige knew she was either about to receive the best or worst news of her life.

Ralph had gone to bed uncharacteristically early—there wasn't much worth staying up for—so she nearly tripped over an ottoman in the dark as she fumbled toward the hallway, where her purse was propped up on a side table. Paige hesitated as her fingers wrapped around the case. She so desperately wanted it to be Walter, telling her it was safe to return home; her chest ached at the thought. It was dangerous to get her hopes up, she knew that, but the other possibilities were too terrifying to contemplate, so she tried not to think about a reality in which he might never get a chance to say those words to her.

The liaison slid her finger across the screen and whispered, "Hello?"

"Paige?" Cabe's voice was such a welcome sound that she nearly broke down. She didn't answer immediately, her breath too tangled up in her throat. "Paige, are you alright?"

"Yes." She rested her forehead against the top edge of the phone and inhaled deeply to center herself. "Yes, we're fine. It's just good to…" Her voice faded out as temporary relief gave way to a gnawing sensation in her stomach. "W-why didn't Walter call? Does he…" Paige bit her lip, a distinct crack punctuating her words. "Does he not want to talk to me?"

Paige pressed her face into her palm, embarrassed by the barely restrained wave of tears that threatened to crash through. Cabe was going to think she'd gone insane. Perhaps she was starting to. Of course she was happy to be with her son, out of harm's way, but after a decade of independence, she never thought she could feel loneliness like this again. Combined with her limited ability to sleep and the emotional toll of the past four months…at the garage, she'd been able to channel her anxious energy into her work and her relationship with Walter, but without any distractions left to hide behind, the emotions she'd been burying for so long seemed to be laid bare.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into the phone. "I'm sure he has his reasons, how is—."

"Paige, listen to me." The liaison sobered quickly, startled by Cabe's urgency. She suddenly became aware of the other team members speaking in hushed tones in the background, the way they always did when their first three plans had failed on a case and they were growing desperate, and panic surged through her. "I need you to check that all the doors and windows are locked. Set the alarm. It's possible that you're in danger. Don't be afraid; this is just a precaution. If we've done everything right, you and Ralph will be completely safe. Just do what I ask."

She didn't reply as she switched on the side table lamp for clarity and moved quickly through the apartment, testing and retesting the locks and ensuring that each window was secured. The window in Ralph's room was purely for decoration and didn't open, so Paige was relieved not to have to tiptoe through his room. He usually slept quite hard, but like her, he'd been restless here. She activated the security system to go off for anyone entering the front door and then slumped into the wall, the adrenaline in her system making her veins feel like they were on fire. Walter blamed himself, but Ralph was Paige's responsibility, her life, and she'd already failed twice in protecting him from Collins. She wasn't going to fail again.

"Cabe, please tell me what's going on," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought something akin to nausea. "You wouldn't even be calling if it wasn't serious."

"I know. I'm sorry, kid." The agent cleared his throat. "Walter asked me to check on you both. He's alright, but he's…Collins has him. They're trapped together in the garage."

His words sank into Paige's mind in fragments. "Walter activated the lockdown?" she asked skeptically, earning a grunt of assent from Cabe. "I don't understand. Why would he do that?"

The lockdown protocol was mostly Walter and Happy's project; Paige contributed very little, aside from bringing snacks and water, and making jokes about what an eyesore it was going to be. Walter gave her a demonstration one night while they were alone in the garage, curled up together on the couch. She could almost recall the heat of his palms over her ears as he shielded her from the noise, and how afterward he looked straight into her eyes and insisted that it was all for her, to protect her and Ralph. Paige had never felt safer, but not because of the steel.

That was a little less than two weeks before Ralph was poisoned, and despite Walter's best efforts, he couldn't shield the team from Mark's ruthlessness. She wondered if she should have fought harder to stay, reassured him that he _was_ their safe haven until he believed it, but arguing with Walter when he'd made a decision was as futile as draining water from the ocean.

"I can only assume that Collins forced him somehow. Either he threatened Walter's life or the rest of the team. Or you," Cabe added. "So you and Ralph need to be extremely careful. Stay in the apartment as much as you can. Don't use your phone or internet too much. Keep yourselves off the grid."

Paige shook her head, heat and moisture pricking at her closed eyelids. _Ralph_ , she needed to think about Ralph, but how could she act like Walter wasn't in danger? "We should come back. If it's not safe here anyway, then we—."

"No," he interrupted sternly. "For now, you're in the safest place. Walter would want you to be as far away from Collins as possible."

"But, Cabe, it's—."

"There's nothing you can do, Paige." The compassion that flooded Cabe's voice was the final straw, and the liaison choked back a sob. Deep down, she knew he was right, but hearing it made her feel so weak. She wondered if Walter had experienced something similar when she was unconscious in the hospital. "We'll figure this out. Scorpion never fails. I need you to have faith."

Walter designed all of this for her, for the team, and Collins had found one more way to turn everything he loved against him. Paige was feeling guilt, disgust, fear—faith would take some effort. She dragged the heel of her hand over her face, clearing away the dampness that stained her cheeks. "When is this going to end, Cabe?"

Her voice sounded so much smaller than she'd expected, but the agent's was strong, and his conviction was exactly what she needed. "Tonight. This all ends tonight."

* * *

"Cabe is an interesting addition to the team," Collins noted as he leaned back, bringing his right leg up to rest on the other at a ninety-degree angle. "Forgiving the man who singlehandedly ruined your childhood…I never thought I would see that day."

Walter didn't respond, but Mark picked up on his slight, uncomfortable shift in his chair and grinned.

"Ah, but I should have suspected that you always wanted him back in your life. Perhaps you didn't even realize it. But someone had to play the role of 'daddy,' didn't they?" Collins continued to eye him curiously, picking apart his every reaction. It was even more disconcerting than he remembered in the absolute silence of the garage. "I do understand Agent Gallo's utility. He brings you cases. He carries a gun. He's got to be more valuable than the shrink, at any rate."

Mark always had a special distaste for Toby, who spent every moment of their working relationship making snide remarks about his mental stability and attempting to diagnosis him with rare conditions from medical textbooks. They'd come close to exchanging blows more than once, with only Happy's intervention stopping them. Walter cringed inwardly as he recalled how many times he'd defended Collins, insisting that the psychologist's oversized ego was the problem. Not that it wasn't—Toby was still a pain in the ass—but in hindsight, Mark's control over Walter was sickening.

_No more._

The genius straightened up, meeting Mark's stare unflinchingly. His former partner raised one eyebrow, amused by the show of defiance. "You were better before, Walter. When you didn't have to worry about the politics of the team or sucking up to clients or toeing the line so the government doesn't shut you down. You were free to work. Free to _think_ ," he said emphatically. "Don't tell me you don't miss that. Don't tell me you weren't happier then."

It was true that Walter sometimes missed losing himself in projects, for hours or even days. He couldn't do that anymore, not between constant international crises and the four or five nights a week he spent with Paige and Ralph, either separately or together. He had other responsibilities now.

But what he'd had before wasn't freedom. He was always enslaved to something: pride, ambition, emptiness that he was desperate to fill. And it certainly wasn't happiness. At his worst—at the height of his codependence with Collins—he'd been a hollow shell of a person.

"Believe what you want," Walter shrugged, dropping his hands onto his knees. "I don't need to defend my life to you, Mark."

Collins pressed his lips into a thin line, watching Walter thoughtfully, until that familiar and dangerous spark appeared in his eyes. "Defend? No. I see the…appeal of what you think you have here. I'm merely asking what you're going to do when it all goes away." He twisted the brown laces on his dress shoe around his index finger, a detached smile on his face. "Nothing lasts forever, Walter. You know that better than most. All relationships, no matter how strong, eventually crumble and fade. Are you prepared for that?"

Losing Megan had been the single most painful experience of Walter's life. He knew, logically, that he had no control over the permanence of his friendships. Given the dangerous nature of Scorpion's work, the odds of him losing a member of the team were consistently high. He'd nearly watched Paige and Ralph slip away just days earlier. And that was only presuming the absolute worst outcome—death—and not the thousands of other possibilities that could lead to a fracture in the family he'd built.

"That's an inevitability of life," the genius answered calmly, determined not to give Collins the satisfaction of witnessing his doubt. From his conversations with Cabe and Paige, Walter knew that the fear of loss was not exclusive to geniuses, so his words weren't simply a deflection. They felt true. "We have to make use of the finite time available to us. Uncertainty over the future is not an adequate excuse to avoid moving forward."

Mark made an unconvinced noise. "That's a very enlightened perspective, coming from a man who hasn't slept in…" He pushed his chair closer to Walter, inspecting the telltale bags under the genius's eyes. "A week, I'm guessing? You don't need to lie to me, O'Brien. I know this experience has been rough on you. Sending the two people you care about the most off to fend for themselves has clearly taken a toll on you."

Walter berated himself for having neglected rest and proper nutrition. His weakened state would not be an asset while confronting Collins, who looked like he'd been preparing for this day his entire life. The genius bit down on the inside of his cheek and his breath caught at the stinging sensation, but Walter had learned long ago that inflicting pain on himself was the best way to avoid answering hastily and saying something he would definitely regret.

"You can't survive one week without that worthless _liaison_ ," Mark sneered. "Can you? You're addicted to her. That's not love, Walter. That's dependence. But you know what really makes this so pathetic?" He leaned in until his face was inches away, and Walter's skin crawled at the proximity. "You're not a wreck because you miss her. You're falling apart because the longer she's gone, the more she'll remember what a normal life feels like. And once Paige realizes she's better off without the team, that she and Ralph are _safe_ , you've lost her. Deep down, you know it's coming. If not today, or tomorrow, then soon. And when they're finally gone, you will regret all this time you've spent obsessing over her instead of using your gifts for something meaningful."

_I love you so much. And so does Ralph. All we want is to be with you. Never let Collins make you believe anything different._

Paige's voice echoed in his head, as clear as if she was standing right in front of him. He'd appreciated her words then, of course; saying goodbye was an emotional event for both of them. But Walter realized that he had not grasped the larger picture until now. She knew Mark would press on his weakest point—her—and Paige wanted to give him something to hold onto when that happened. She always knew what he needed, even when he didn't.

Being with her and Ralph was meaningful. It was the most meaningful thing he'd ever done.

A hint of a smile broke through his impassiveness at the thought. Walter realized his mistake a second too late and retrained his features, but it was clearly long enough for Collins to notice and take it as a challenge.

"You've really convinced yourself that this is worth fighting for, haven't you?" Mark shook his head and laughed as if that was the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "And yet there are so many things that they don't know about you. Not Paige. Not Cabe. Not your incompetent team of 'geniuses.'" He made air quotes with his fingers. "You have no idea how delicate this house of cards is. Do you think they would all stick around if they knew the truth? If they knew everything you've done?"

The genius stiffened. There were parts of his past that he didn't discuss with Paige, and she'd accepted that they were simply too painful to talk about. But Happy, Toby, and Sylvester had supported him through his darkest moments, and his rocky history with Cabe was public knowledge. Walter couldn't imagine anything Collins would be able to blackmail him with now. "They do know everything," he rebutted, but something about Mark's smirk had him scrambling to figure out what he was missing.

"Oh, Walter," Collins sighed, and whatever he was about to say next, Walter sensed he was going to take great pleasure in it. "That's not possible. Even _you_ don't know everything." He paused, another dark flash in his eyes that made the genius's blood run cold. "Or maybe you do know, and you just don't want to remember. But it's time you did."


	3. Ruined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That season three promo though...#missileblocked.

"You're bluffing. I don't forget anything."

Walter dug his nails into his wrist. He was going to have to sound a hell of a lot more convincing than that. What was it about his former partner that made him doubt himself, fear himself, _hate_ himself? No one else had that power over him; at least, not anyone who would wield it the way Collins did.

Logically, though, Walter knew exactly why he was so hesitant. He sunk painfully, unforgivably low with Mark. He became a person he never expected or wanted to be. He turned on everyone that cared about him and put all of his faith and trust in Collins. And then he betrayed him too.

Walter hated the twisted genius. But not as much as he despised himself for letting Mark win over and over again.

"Technically accurate." Collins smirked and leaned back into the chair, mercifully vacating Walter's personal space. He pointed his finger in the genius's direction before clasping his hands in his lap. "When you're lucid. Tell me, when was the last time you…lost awareness?"

_Even you don't know everything_.

_Or maybe you do know, and you just don't want to remember._

A fresh wave of dread pooled in Walter's chest. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd gone down the rabbit hole with Collins, although he was sure Sylvester had the precise figure stored somewhere. Walter could easily lose hours, days, weeks lost in a vacuum of his own thoughts, with limited to nonexistent perception of the outside world. Happy wasn't exaggerating about bringing him back from the brink of starvation after one particularly intense journey.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Collins was present for every second. If there was a secret that even Walter couldn't readily access, it was hidden there. Jumbled in with flashes of memory and darkness that he'd tried his best to forget.

"Not since you left. Funny how that worked out."

"Hilarious," Collins said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. "No wonder you haven't made any noteworthy breakthroughs in four years. A few days down there and you might have actually found a cure for Megan's MS."

Walter's breath hitched at the mention of her name, and Mark knew he'd hit a pain point. The genius could hide his emotions from everyone on earth except the man sitting across from him. The most dangerous man he had ever met.

"But that would have been a sacrifice, wouldn't it?" An almost delighted smile passed over Mark's face and he spoke with more confidence, like a cold reader getting closer to his mark. "One that you couldn't afford. After all, Happy had threatened to leave if you went down again. Toby and Sylvester would follow her. Cabe wouldn't understand. And Paige…oh, Paige." He shook his head slowly, his grin widening. "She's never seen that side of you. Far too unstable. Say bye-bye to the liaison and her son."

Walter put all of that behind him years ago. He'd never really considered Paige's reaction because he was resolved never to go there again. The temporary boost in his mental capacity wasn't worth his team or his life.

"I've seen you make incredible strides when you were down. You had ideas that could have changed the world. But apparently your sister wasn't quite worth that risk, was she?"

Collins looked supremely satisfied with himself. He was baiting Walter. Silence was the best defense, but _damn_ , did he make it difficult.

What was there to say, anyway? That Megan was his world? That he would have done anything and everything to save her? That even now, he would willingly give up his life in exchange for hers? That she was special and merited much more time than she was allowed? Those things were all true, but Collins didn't deserve to hear them, so Walter pressed his lips together and swallowed the words.

When he didn't respond, Collins nodded at Walter with what could have been mistaken as respect by someone who didn't know better. But he did. Mark was stalling. They were wasting time and he wasn't sure why.

After a long pause, Collins furrowed his eyebrows and sighed theatrically. "That's not what I came here to talk about anyway. I suppose you already guessed that?"

Walter huffed out a breath of his own, his frustration steadily growing at the other man's relentless misdirection. "Well why don't you just get to the point and tell me—."

"The man in the red shirt," Mark interrupted, studying Walter carefully for any hint of recognition. "Dark hair…brown eyes…six foot one. Keys on his belt loop that made noise when he walked. Obnoxious prick. Do you remember?"

Walter recognized the description immediately, but what Collins was telling him was impossible. He'd only seen that man once, in a nightmare he had five years earlier. Typically, he had control over his dreams—at least enough to play them back later in detail—but he admitted that this was different. It was fragmented, like a movie with scenes missing. And what Walter could remember, he was loathe to revisit. He hadn't told anyone about it. Unless it helped to solve a problem, Walter mostly disregarded his subconscious thoughts.

Collins could almost pinpoint the exact moment he realized the truth.

"No. _No_ ," Walter spat back, struggling to draw a breath like the air was being manually sucked out of his lungs. "I told you. I don't know why but I…I must have…"

"You didn't have to tell me, Walter. I was there." Mark reached over and took one of Walter's hands between his own, although the genius's head was spinning too much to register the contact or react. "Deep in the recesses of that brilliant mind, you know it wasn't a dream. You see it, don't you? What you did? Let it come back to you."

"I don't—I don't want to," Walter said weakly, his vision blurring slightly as he met Mark's expectant gaze. "You're manipulating me. It never happened."

"Stop hiding from it," Collins demanded, releasing his grip and placing his hands on Walter's shoulders, anticipating the genius's sudden urge to bolt. "Stop fighting it, Walter. This is what binds us together. You can never accept who you really are until you let yourself remember."

It couldn't be real. Rabbit hole or not, Walter would never…but everywhere he looked, the evidence was there. The blood. The tools. The chemicals. This wasn't the first time he'd seen those things, but he had always dismissed them as hallucinations from his overworked, sleep-deprived brain.

It couldn't be real.

But Collins had proven he wasn't above murder.

Walter dropped his head into his outstretched palms, the pounding of his heart echoing through every part of his body. Was Mark gaslighting him? He had to assume this was a trick until he saw evidence. But he didn't want proof. He didn't want it to be true. "You killed him."

"Yes," Collins said evenly, no trace of concern or remorse in his voice. "The rest, Walter. We've buried it long enough. It's time to remember."

The genius clenched his hands into fists until they ached, as if he was searching for the right trigger to escape from _this_ nightmare. But the images in his head were too clear now to ignore. Too real to forget. "And I helped you."

* * *

Sylvester shoved himself away from the desk and stood up abruptly, tugging a section of his hair anxiously with his fingers. "This is pointless. Walter's a better hacker than all of us combined. There's no way we'll figure out his lockdown code in time."

Cabe set down the file he was reading and crossed over to the mathematician, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, kid. Just take a break and keep trying."

"No, you don't understand." Sylvester glanced over to Toby and Happy, who heard the commotion and joined them, and shook his head fervently. "I can't even get fifty lines into it before the code starts to change. Walter designed this to be unhackable. It'll protect itself against any virus we introduce. He's the only person who would even have the first idea how to attack it."

"Well, we can't just leave him to fend for himself in there," the agent grumbled. "Even if he can take on Collins, we have to assume there are other factors that we don't know about yet. Mark always has a backup plan. Are you sure there's no one else who can get control of the lockdown?"

Toby cleared his throat, earning the attention of the group, who turned toward him in unison. "There might be. But it's risky."

"Ralph," the mechanic sighed, dragging her hand over her mouth. "He's smarter than Walter and knows how he thinks. If anyone can get inside Walt's head and figure out how this code was designed, it'll be him."

The psychologist dropped his head. He couldn't believe what he was suggesting. Walter would kill him for even bringing it up. "But we'd almost certainly be putting them in danger. Hacking into the garage's computers is a surefire way to get attention from Collins. We can help cover up the source, but if Mark finds them, they're screwed."

Happy tipped her chin toward Sylvester. "What are the odds?"

"Assuming that Collins is anticipating a hack…" He hesitated, shifting his weight between his feet. "Seventy-three percent."

Silence fell over the team. Everyone knew it was their best option, but no one wanted to be the first to push for it. They'd made a promise to protect the liaison and her son, and if Walter was there, he would tell them to leave Paige and Ralph in peace no matter the consequences.

But Walter wasn't there, and if they didn't do something, that was going to be their new normal.

Cabe nodded affirmatively to Happy, who pulled the encrypted phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. He inhaled deeply before pressing the liaison's number. "It should be Paige's decision. Whatever she says, we do."

* * *

_No, no, no._ This couldn't be happening. Walter thought he was ready this time…ready to fight, to win, to reclaim his life and start a new chapter without Mark's poisonous influence. But Collins had one more ace up his sleeve. He always did.

Walter's only logical option was to dismiss the allegations and cling to the steadfast belief that his former partner was torturing him with an illusion. But this…this wasn't like the other times Collins had tried to plant doubt in his head. The other man typically started off with generally insulting statements, zeroing in as he detected a negative response, pressing in tighter and tighter until Walter was insecure enough to play into his hands. He was being far too specific now, far too confident. If it was true, if there was even a _chance_ …the genius couldn't let it go. He needed to know for sure. "W-Who was he?"

"Randall Horton. An astronomy professor at UCLA." The disaffection in Mark's voice was too much. Walter wanted to shake him, hit him, make him feel…pain? Anger? Did he feel anything anymore? "I suppose you're wondering why. It doesn't really matter, but you have gotten oddly…moral as of late."

Walter dropped his hands from his face and glared at Collins. "It matters to me," he said bitingly.

"If it will make you feel better," Mark shrugged. "Well, it won't. But it's a simple enough story. Horton and I worked together on several projects regarding dark matter. He wasn't a genius, but not so insufferable as the other stuffed shirts in his department…until he stole my research. We had a disagreement. I won."

Collins was right. That didn't make him feel better. Walter ran one hand through his hair, twisting it between his fingers as pain tinged his scalp. A small part of him—a rapidly diminishing part—still hoped this was a dream, and he'd wake up in seconds, asleep at his desk with a bowl of soggy granola awaiting him.

No such luck.

So he pressed on. "Why did you ask me to help you?"

"Oh, I didn't have to ask," Collins responded quickly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You'd been down the rabbit hole for sixty-four hours already. You barely knew who I was. Heck, you barely knew who you were."

For a brief second, Walter was transported there again. Not the deepest he'd ever been; he didn't remember those times. He could still recall the levels closer to the surface, though, the beginning stages. The genius shut his eyes, allowing the vision to wash over him, hoping for some kind of clarity. But everything was pitch black around him, and he felt lonely and cold and…

Walter jumped up from his chair, nearly knocking it over. He suppressed the overwhelming urge to vomit and placed a hand on his desk to steady himself. There was a time when he'd appreciated that place…thought of it as an asset in his work. After four years away, though, even the memory of it scared the hell out of him.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it anymore," Collins remarked simply, looking up at him. "You're too weak. You don't deserve that kind of power."

The genius steadied his breathing again, gradually lowering himself back into his chair. "Keep it," he mumbled as he trained his focus on the floor. "It sucks."

Mark chuckled lightly. "I suppose you could say it worked out better for me than for you. Are you ready to hear the rest of the story?"

_Not really_. But Walter was too deep in to stop now. He nodded.

"I invited Randall to the garage to talk. We never got past the parking lot. I dragged him in here," Collins gestured broadly to the main office space, "and made a list of the ingredients we'd need. You took care of everything. All I had to do was dump him in and erase the camera footage."

"Dump him in? What does that…" Walter regretted asking immediately. Mark's expression confirmed his awful realization, and it wasn't long before the genius was grabbing for the trash can under his workstation and emptying the meager contents of his stomach. "Oh God. Why did—why would—."

Collins seemed unfazed by Walter's obvious distress. "It was efficient. No body, no crime."

Walter threw up once more for good measure and then shoved the can back onto the floor, the smell assaulting his senses. _How?_ How could he have ever agreed to this? Mistreating his family and friends when he was down the rabbit hole was one thing. Forgetting to eat and sleep…but getting rid of a body? He could see the chemicals Collins was describing as they were lined up on a table, saw himself measuring them out into the large, oval-shaped metal container that they used for experiments, but the body was missing. Walter supposed he should be grateful that part was blocked out, at least.

"I always thought…" Walter swallowed, his throat burning. "I always thought there was still an ounce of humanity left in you, but I was wrong. You used me. You used me to _kill_ someone. Do you understand how insane you are?"

Collins held up both hands in mock surrender. "I can see how you'd feel that way. Although I would argue that he was already dead before you got involved, so to say that I used you to murder him is a tad dramatic…"

"Damnit, Mark!" No longer concerned with the consequences, Walter lunged forward and grabbed Collins by his shirt collar, clutching it tightly enough to restrict the other genius's airflow. "This is all a big joke to you, isn't it?" he snarled. "You've been ruining my life as long as I can remember. If I was lucky, Horton would have killed you that night instead. It would have been a service to humanity."

The man looked vaguely surprised at Walter's outburst, but made no move to get out of his grasp. He merely blinked a few times and then smirked. "It's easy to blame everything on me, isn't it? I'm your Boogeyman. Your scapegoat for every bad decision you've ever made. Pretending that I'm some sort of monster makes it easier to avoid taking responsibility. You were there too, Walter. I didn't force you."

Walter released his grip on Collins almost violently, throwing him against the back of his seat, and rose again, pacing in a line along his desk. "What would you call it?" he barked, linking his fingers behind his neck before dragging them back around to his face. "I was down the rabbit hole. You knew I was in no condition to make decisions; I was barely functioning…"

"And whose fault was that?"

Mark's question stopped him dead in his tracks, and he spun around, surprising himself with the venom in his tone. "What?"

"I said, whose fault was that?" Collins enunciated, standing to match the genius's height. "I've done a lot of things to manipulate you, Walter, but I never pushed you down there. I never had to. You craved it. You wanted the freedom and the opportunities it gave you. So stop painting yourself as a victim." He took another step toward Walter, his eyes growing fiercer. "Would you say that an addict isn't responsible for what he does when he's in oblivion? It was his _choice_. He decided to lose control. You knew exactly what sent you to that place, and you went willingly. You gave up control for something better. And just because you're regretting that now doesn't mean you don't have to live with it."

Walter stared at his former partner. Was he guilty? He couldn't even begin to address that question right now. He was still reeling from the knowledge of what he'd done. Everything felt so wrong. "Why can't you just let me live?" he breathed, the anger draining from every cell in his body, replaced with a crushing weight that made it difficult to even stand. "Let the past go. Leave and start over somewhere else. Anywhere but here."

Collins shook his head. "You can fool them, but not me. The only thing that separates us is that you're still clinging to this…this _lie_ about who you really are. And I'm not leaving until you accept that you are meant for so much more than this. A life far beyond the confines of this garage and the people in it." He closed the distance between them, and for the first time in years, the genius saw them as they really were. Equals _._ The thought chilled him to his core. "Trust me, Walter. When this is all over, you'll thank me."


	4. Traced

Paige couldn't sleep. Not that she'd been trying to. The TV was still on in the background, the hushed, unintelligible dialogue separating her from complete silence. There were hundreds of ways to distract herself—it was all she and Ralph had been doing since they got there—but Paige dismissed them. Every thought she entertained was quickly replaced by the nauseating image of Walter and Collins together, so now she was just staring blankly at the wall, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat on the couch and a blanket draped over her to combat her sudden chill.

Walter never would have left her. If the situation was reversed, he would have stuck by her side. She thought she was doing the right thing by him when she took Ralph and disappeared, but the guilt of that decision was tearing her apart now. Realistically, Cabe was right—there was probably nothing she could do in Los Angeles. But there was certainly nothing she could do stuck out here.

She had no idea how long it was after Cabe's last call that her phone vibrated again. Paige's stomach dropped. This was one time she was relieved not to be a genius, glad not to know the odds of the agent reaching out to tell her that Walter was gone.

_Scorpion never fails. I need you to have faith._

Cabe's words rattled around in her chest. Faith was just about the only option she had left.

"What's happening?" Paige kept her voice low, remembering that Ralph was in his room and wanting him to sleep soundly through all of this, if possible. "Is Walter okay?"

"As far as we know." It wasn't a definitive answer, but Cabe didn't sound frantic, so the liaison exhaled shakily and fell silent, allowing him to continue. "But we've still got seven hours until Collins has agreed to lift the lockdown, and too many things could go wrong in that time. We're trying to get into the system ourselves, but…"

But they were failing. That was clear enough from Cabe's defeated tone. Paige wasn't surprised; the other geniuses had talents that far exceeded Walter's, but when it came to electronics, no one could touch him.

Except for one person. "Cabe," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as the realization overwhelmed her. "Tell me that you're not asking what I think you're asking."

"No one will blame you if you say no, Paige. This is dangerous. We'll do everything we can to protect you both, but there's a very high chance that Collins will be able to find you. Ralph's our best shot, but he's just a kid. You're his mother. The decision is yours."

If it was just her…only her life at risk…she would have already agreed a thousand times over, no questions asked. Walter never hesitated to save her life and she'd always tried to repay the favor when possible. But she couldn't do that to her son. Putting him in danger for a chance to save the man she loved was unbelievably selfish.

"Walter's in trouble, isn't he?"

Paige fumbled with the phone and twisted around, blinking as she realized that Ralph had crept out of his room and was standing in the hallway. He approached her, barely illuminated by the glow from the TV and the single lamp she'd turned on, and placed his hands on the corner of the sofa, staring down at her. "I'll call you back," she muttered to Cabe before resting the device in her lap. "Honey, what are you doing up?"

"You're upset," Ralph noted, and Paige's hands flew to her eyes, which were still slightly watery. She knew there was no use lying to him—his emotional intelligence was nearly as developed as hers now—so she simply nodded. "And Cabe wouldn't call if he didn't have to; it's too risky. What happened to Walter?"

The liaison was nearly at a loss for words. Lying would only motivate him to find the truth on his own, which could prove even more dangerous. If she gave him the facts, though, she knew he would want to help in any way he could. He was every inch as selfless and brave as his mentor, and that terrified Paige.

Ralph sensed that she was paralyzed by her indecision and sat down next to her on the arm of the couch, gripping one of her hands with his. "The team needs help, don't they? That's why you don't want to tell me. You're trying to protect me."

In the dim light, his expression serious, the young genius looked much older than his twelve years. Paige wasn't sure how someone so special had come from any combination of her and Drew's genes, but it was impossible to imagine him any other way. "I have to protect you, Ralph. I'm your mother. No matter what it costs."

Barely two weeks earlier, she had poisoned herself to save him. It was already a miracle that both of them survived. To take the risk Cabe wanted them to take would be tempting fate.

"You're right. It's your job to protect me. But it's my job to help people too." Ralph's brows furrowed and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't know why I'm like this. Logically, I should believe that it's a genetic anomaly." He squeezed her hand, forcing her attention to him. "But perhaps I am not just a statistical aberration. You believe that events happen for a purpose, so you must believe that there is a reason for my intelligence. And if that's true, then this is the reason. Let me help."

Paige swallowed. He was persuasive, she had to admit, but it wasn't enough. She shook her head. "It's too dangerous, Ralph. I won't forgive myself if something happens to you."

"And what about if something happens to Walter? Or to the hundreds, or thousands, of people that Collins might target next? We became a part of Scorpion to save everybody. Remember?"

Paige almost smirked as her son used her words against her. Walter liked to tell the story of the day they met, and no matter how many times they'd heard it, they never stopped him.

And Ralph was right. Collins had been willing to let half of California burn in a nuclear meltdown. Defeating him could save untold lives. Maybe she was a terrible mother, as Walter half-jokingly suggested that first day. But she couldn't very well hold her son back from being who he was clearly meant to be.

He watched expectantly as Paige picked up her phone and redialed Cabe. The agent picked up almost immediately, and she turned on the speaker so they could both hear. "Tell us what you need us to do."

* * *

Armed with his laptop and hers, along with a backpack full of gear he had insisted on bringing aboard the plane as his carry-on luggage, Ralph commandeered the kitchen counter and pushed himself up onto a stool. Paige, severely out of her element, followed her son's instructions to unplug most of the lights and appliances, maximizing the power available to him. He dictated the ideal temperature to keep his equipment from overheating and requested a glass of water.

Once they were set up, Ralph angled Paige's cell toward him and cracked his knuckles. She knew her son was capable of feeling fear. She was grateful for that, because it kept him from being reckless without cause, as Walter sometimes was. But his conviction seemed to be outweighing his other instincts, because there was no trace of trepidation in his expression when he turned to look at her. "Mom. It's okay. I can do this."

"I know." Unable to resist the impulse, Paige pressed a kiss to his head before circling to the other side of the counter and nodding her approval.

"Ready," Ralph announced to the team, his fingers hovering over the keys. Paige didn't consider him an official member of Scorpion—that was a choice he had to make on his own, in the future, independent of her. But he sure looked the part right now.

"Wait for our signal." Cabe gestured to the other three geniuses, who were poised at the bank of computers in a secluded Homeland office. The agency had tech specialists too, but they couldn't risk anyone tipping Mark off, intentionally or unintentionally. It had to stay between them for now. "We'll do our best to throw Collins off the scent. Work fast, kid. Good luck." Happy gave him a thumbs up. "Now. Go now," he ordered before slamming his phone down on the table.

Paige's knuckles went white as she gripped the counter. Ralph's fingers flew across his keyboard, the sharp clacking of plastic squares filling the apartment. This was a side of her son that she rarely saw—he hid his more questionably legal activities from her, hacking included. She wondered if there would ever come a day that watching him didn't fill her with awe.

Today was not that day.

"Someone tagged me," he said calmly, his focus never leaving the screens. "They've got a trace on our location. Three minutes, tops."

Happy slammed her fist on the desk. "Damnit. It's not Collins. I don't know where it's coming from."

"Me neither." Sylvester's voice sounded strangled. "He hired someone. Someone good. The IP address is bouncing all over the world. We won't find him before he finds Ralph." He stood up frantically, waving to get Cabe's attention. "The odds of failure are now 94%. We have to abort."

"Ralph can do it," the mechanic insisted gruffly. "We have to trust him. He still has two minutes. It might be enough."

The mathematician fell helplessly back into his chair, twisting his hands together as he muttered to himself about what a terrible idea this was. Happy and Toby exchanged a nervous glance. They'd all known this was a possibility—Collins had hired help before. The police managed to arrest five men involved in Walter and Paige's abduction, but as Mark's plans became more elaborate, it wasn't hard to imagine that he delegated some of the execution to less-than-ethical contractors.

"One minute," Ralph said, snapping them out of their unspoken conversation. Happy's hand went out to grip Toby's arm as they held their breath. Paige was holding her breath as well, ignoring the first signs of dizziness. She had heard every word and considered pulling the plug, but Ralph would never agree to stop now. They were so far over the line that Paige wasn't sure they'd even be able to find it again. "Forty-five seconds."

"Ralph, shut it down," Cabe warned, his tone making it clear that he was not open to negotiation. The young genius was equally stubborn, though, and kept working undeterred. "Ralph! Are you listening to me? Shut it down, you can regroup and try again."

"No, I can't." The sound from the keyboard was almost deafening now. Paige strode toward the control panel in the hall and cracked it open, counting down in her head. She was putting a lot of trust in her son, but if he couldn't make the call, she would do it for him. "Twenty seconds."

The liaison's fingers hovered over the main electrical switch. In the brief pauses between the numbers, Paige prayed that she wouldn't have to flip it.

"Fifteen seconds."

This wasn't their only opportunity to save Walter. If this failed, they would figure out a way. They always did. Paige clung to that thought as her thumb and forefinger wrapped around the switch.

"Ten seconds. Almost."

His voice was unwavering. Ralph was right, in that respect. He was born for this.

"Five…four…I'm done! Shut it off!"

Paige forced the switch to the other side, slumping against the wall as the house fell completely dark. There were two loud crashes in rapid succession and she spun around, seeing only a sliver of Ralph's face in the glow from her phone. "Did you just break my laptop?" she asked breathlessly.

"Sorry," he shrugged. "I had to be safe."

Under any other circumstances she might be furious, but all she could do now was throw her arms around him, her hand cradling the back of his head. Paige knew she was squeezing him too tightly, but Ralph didn't push her away. He returned her embrace and she laughed softly into his shoulder, her sickening tension replaced by relief and elation. "You are amazing," she murmured as she kissed his cheek.

"I didn't have time to finish," Ralph rebutted, backing up until Paige let him go. He grabbed the phone and pulled it toward him. "I couldn't gain full control before the trace was completed. But I did introduce an error into the system that'll lift the lockdown automatically in about forty minutes." He glanced sideways to his mother, looking a little guilty. "I'm sorry."

Paige opened her mouth to reassure him, but Sylvester beat her to it. "Ralph, none of us could even attempt what you just did," the mathematician said warmly. "We can save Walter now, because of you. I am so ridiculously proud."

There was a murmur of approval among the team, and the young genius looked up at Paige again, as if seeking her agreement. She lifted her hand to stroke his hair, her smile beaming. "You did it, kiddo."

* * *

Walter stared suspiciously at the glass of water Collins handed him. It could have been tainted, for all he knew, but he was dehydrated and the taste in his mouth was abhorrent, so he downed the liquid and shoved the glass onto the desk. Mark smirked at him and moved the container away from the edge so it wouldn't fall and shatter.

Collins had taken great pleasure in pushing him to the edge, though. Walter wondered how one of the smartest men in the world was constantly in the dark about aspects of his own life. Cabe's revelation about Baghdad shook everything he thought he knew, but this…this was worse. As a teenager, he promised to make up for all the pain and suffering he'd caused, but instead, he allowed himself to become Mark's puppet and perpetrate even more. Did Randall Horton have a family? Had they spent years wondering what happened to him? If Walter ever got out of the garage alive, he would have to tell them. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to look them in the eye. Or anyone else, for that matter. God, what would the team think? The other geniuses had already been wary of the person he was down the rabbit hole…how could he be anything but a monster in their eyes now?

Walter shot up in his chair as the garage's landline rang. Collins glanced casually at the caller ID before answering. "Did you find them?" The hair on the back of his neck stood up. _Paige. Ralph._ A part of him had hoped that Mark was done with them, now that he was cornered. They'd already been through so much. "Alright, keep looking. Let me know if you find anything."

The genius shivered, relief flooding his body before he could consciously process it. They were safe for the moment, but if Walter didn't find a way out of this soon, all of his efforts to protect them could be undone.

"They're in southern Texas, in case you were wondering," Collins said before taking a sip of his own water and placing the phone back in its cradle. "Your protégé is a smart one, though. Managed to get out before my associate tracked an exact location. There's a fair amount of money at stake, though, so...I have faith in my man."

Walter glared at Mark, growling under his breath. He'd already lost control with Collins once; if his former partner continued to bait him, he might find himself in another dark place. "You have me, don't you? You don't need them anymore. Or are you that threatened by a normal woman and a child?"

The fallen genius rolled his eyes, resting his glass down and folding his arms over his chest. "Let's just say…I don't like unfinished business." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Walter detected an edge in his voice and realized that the statement wasn't so far off. "Regardless, they are a secondary concern. The little brat's maneuvering is forcing me to move up my timeline. There was so much more I wanted to tell you, but I suppose we'll just have to skip to the spectacular finale."

Collins advanced toward him, reaching for an object in his pocket. Walter noticed the glint of metal a second too late and barely made it out of his chair when the needle sunk into his neck. He'd felt the symptoms of this sedative in the past, when he and Paige were taken by Mark, and the combination of sleep deprivation and hunger caused it to rush through his system at an unprecedented rate. He slipped out of the seat and slumped on the floor, Collins moving into his line of vision as the man stood over him. "Strap in, Walter. Things are about to get bumpy."


	5. Destroyed

" _We can't come back. You know that, don't you?"_

Paige's voice. Her words sounded distant, like they were muffled through a door. Walter could only see the haziest outline of two figures until they grew clearer, Ralph standing by his mother's side in the office. He missed them so much it made his chest hurt.

" _You've always put us in danger. You can't fix this, Walter. Just let us go."_

No, no, no, he couldn't. Walter tried to verbalize that thought, but his mouth was arid and he wasn't able to force out the words. They were carrying black suitcases, preparing to exit the garage, and somehow Walter knew he was never going to see them again.

" _Don't leave."_ His voice was barely above a whisper, but he had to say something, anything, to keep them from disappearing. He'd made a mistake—so many mistakes—but Paige was wrong, he could fix things, he had to fix things. _"Please, I need you. I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm trying to protect you."_

Paige shot him a sad look and shook her head. _"Hurting people is the only thing you're capable of, Walter."_ The genius's throat closed up again and his feet felt like lead, too heavy to move as he tried to reach them. All he could do was watch helplessly while Paige took Ralph's hand, stepping out of the garage with him into the almost blindingly bright sun outside.

"Time to wake up, Walt." Another voice, piercing through the fog, sparking a familiar sense of dread and fear, followed by a stinging pain that caused his vision to melt away around him. The ethereal glow in the garage faded, replaced by the reality of gritty brick and hard steel, as a wave of nausea crashed through his abdomen. The soreness concentrated on his cheek as Collins slapped him again, finally bringing him out of his dream state.

Walter bolted up in his chair, head spinning. While he wasn't unhappy about being woken from that particular nightmare, regaining consciousness in front of Mark Collins was not a preferable alternative. "Damnit," he grumbled, "were the sedatives necessary? Didn't think you could subdue me the old-fashioned way?"

Collins backed away and dropped his hand, looking vaguely amused. "I told you, I was working on a tight deadline thanks to the boy wonder. I needed to limit your interference with my project."

"What project?" he asked reflexively, shifting in his seat. His wrists chafed, and a quick glance down confirmed that his hands were secured in front of him with a black cable. Walter tested his ankles, only to find the same restraints blocking his movement. This…wasn't great. "I'm surprised you have any grand plans left."

"Just one," Mark answered with a smirk, returning to the seat across from him. "Unlike you, Walter, I work with a purpose. An ultimate goal toward which all of my actions have been focused. This game of ours could have finished at any stage, but I must say I'm pleased we reached the end. It's been quite interesting this past few months."

_The end. Just one._ Everything prior to this had been a warm-up. This was what Collins really wanted all along: the two of them back where it all started, their ugliest secrets laid bare. "Destroying me," he muttered, locking his steely eyes onto Mark's. "That's your ultimate goal, isn't it? Stealing my life like I stole yours."

The other genius shrugged. "That's accurate enough," he acknowledged, running one hand over his jaw as he returned Walter's fierce stare. Walter never quite got used to seeing him like this, clean-shaven, hair dyed black and slicked close to his head, but his eyes—dark, condescending, cruel—were one thing he could never change. "Though not the entire story. You see, Walter, killing you is the easy part. Killing everyone you love is even easier. You know the only reason you've saved Paige and Ralph thus far is because I allowed you to. That's why you hid them…because you know I've always been in control."

It was true; he'd told Toby as much. Perhaps with more time, Walter could have found a way to rescue them without assistance, but Mark always knew how to corner them and the team had been forced to play into his hands over and over. Sending Paige and Ralph away was a desperate last resort, and he'd hated every second he was separated from them, but Walter knew his desire to protect them simply wasn't enough anymore. "Why not do it then?" he snapped, enunciating each word sharply. "If you're so powerful, then go ahead. Just take what you want and end this right now."

Collins clicked his tongue scoldingly. "Patience, Walter. You'll get what you want soon enough."

The genius froze. He wasn't exactly expecting Collins to end the night with two beers and a movie, but Mark's true intentions had been fairly obscure to this point. Clearly, Walter wasn't walking out of this garage at seven a.m., as previously agreed. He'd never honestly bought that, he supposed, but he had no reason to assume that Mark planned to kill him either.

He didn't fear death in the traditional sense. Walter and Happy shared the belief that death was more or less a construct, as energy couldn't be destroyed, merely transferred into another form. The genius had risked his life for the greater good dozens of times, secure in the knowledge that his passing was not the end of all things. But to cease living—that scared him. He had everything to live for. Everything to fight for. Maybe he would lose those things, when they all learned the truth about him, but he had no way to guard them if he was gone.

He had to find a way out.

"You may have misunderstood me," Collins continued, tapping his fingers against his knee. "I don't intend to kill you tonight. Don't get me wrong, I want you to die. But I haven't completed my objective, and that concerns me."

Walter raised his eyebrow, dedicating a portion of his mental energy to feigning interest while the majority of his brain was fighting through fogginess from the sedative and lack of sleep to formulate some type of plan. "Your objective?"

"As I said, killing you is the easy part." Too restless to sit, Mark pushed himself up and knocked absentmindedly on the desk before pacing in a circle around Walter, who craned his neck to keep an eye on the man and avoid any more surprises. "But I have no interest in watching you die a martyr. Or at least, thinking of yourself as a martyr. When we worked together, you were appropriately self-loathing. That's the person I need right now." Without warning, Collins stopped in front of him and gripped the arms of his chair, leaning down until they were mere inches apart. "I don't just want to destroy you, Walter. I want you to _beg_ to be destroyed. I want you to think about every single person whose life you've taken—and if you're including Baghdad, and I know you are, that number is a lot higher than mine—and I want to see the look in your eyes when it dawns on you that the world is a safer place without you."

He shoved Walter's seat away, looking at the genius in disgust as he straightened back up. "You thought you could get rid of me and have everything you wanted?" he snarled. "I've already won. Paige, Ralph, the team—I can and will crush them any time I decide to. I will bring down everything you've ever worked for with one word. And when your friends are alone, and scared, and begging for the great Walter O'Brien, their last thoughts will be that _you failed them_."

Even when he recognized it, Mark's manipulation always managed to creep underneath his armor, worm its way into his mind. He'd resolved not to show any weakness in front of his former partner, but the thought of his team suffering at the hands of Collins was unbearable. Images of Paige and Ralph thousands of miles away, fearing for their lives, feeling abandoned, nearly made him sick again.

"There!" Collins exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. "That powerlessness, that sensation of complete and utter weakness. Focus on it, Walter. Feel it in every part of your body. Accept that all of their pain will be a direct result of _your_ decisions. If you had just left them alone, they'd be living happily now, but you selfishly dragged them into danger and you can't even protect them like you swore you would."

_I can't let them down again._ Walter never imagined that anyone but him would be paying for his tumultuous history with Collins. He always believed that he'd given Paige and Ralph a chance for a better life, but how could it be better when they were at risk? If she had stayed a waitress, they might have struggled financially for a while, but Paige was intelligent and would've found a way out. She could have built a life for the two of them that was steady, simple, safe—everything he wasn't able to offer. But he told himself that he needed her and destroyed any chance of that.

"And when you're broken," Collins said through gritted teeth, "when you've lost everything, when the world is burning around you, and you finally realize that you're responsible for destroying the lives of everyone you loved, that's when I'll kill you. Provided, of course, that you don't just take care of the job yourself."

If he lost them all at once…Mark was right about that, he'd never survive it. Speaking with confidence he didn't feel, Walter rebutted, "You'll never get to my team. I won't let you touch them."

But instead of being fazed by his defiance, Collins just cracked a smile and observed him with a look of pity that made the genius's jaw clench. "You're a little late for that, Walt. The show starts in ten minutes."

* * *

Cabe sighed, glancing back toward the garage for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. Paige and Ralph had cleared out of their apartment and would be spending the night in a hotel, just in case Mark's hacker got closer than they anticipated. With their safety assured—as much as it could be—the rest of the team turned their focus toward preparing for whatever they might find in the Scorpion offices. It had been hours since the agent spoke to Walter and every call into the garage's landline since then was met with overwhelming silence. "I don't like being blind in there."

"None of us do," Happy muttered, fiddling with the straps on her bulletproof vest. "Trust me, I built this thing and there's no weak spot for surveillance or entry. That was the point. We've just gotta trust in the kid and wait it out."

Ten more minutes. That was when Ralph's bug was theoretically supposed to disrupt the software and trigger an end to the lockdown protocol. Cabe had the utmost confidence in the young genius's abilities. What he had less faith in was Walter's safety. There was a high probability that Collins was aware of the bug and knew he was about to be cornered, and a wild, cornered animal was capable of just about anything.

He'd tried to mentally prepare himself for the potentiality that Walter was injured—or worse—but the pain of even imagining that was too intense, so he stopped.

Cabe saw how tired, how weak and fragile and miserable Walter was that night and left anyway. Perhaps if he'd stayed at the garage, things would have turned out differently. Or perhaps he would be dead. Regardless, he regretted not fighting the genius harder about taking care of himself so he could handle a worst-case scenario like this.

"We all should have done better," Toby noted, reading the agent's mind. He was frustratingly talented that way. "But we're here now, and Collins has nowhere to go. So let's just handle this once and for all."

Cabe nodded. "Alright, you three better get some space. I don't want you coming near the garage until we've handled Collins, understand?"

Happy rolled her eyes. The geniuses weren't too keen on hanging back—their edge-of-death stories could rival any from the ops team preparing to storm the building—but coming face-to-face with an irate Collins wasn't high on their wish list either, so they'd agreed to stick with their assigned roles. Toby would coordinate with the paramedics to treat Walter and provide a familiar face in case the genius was disoriented or in shock, while Happy and Sylvester would use their begrudging insight into Collins to locate any potential traps he'd left. This was all presuming the best case scenario—that Walter was alive and Mark could be captured without incident—but they couldn't escape the nagging feeling that Scorpion's cases never went that smoothly.

* * *

Ten minutes. Collins said Ralph had forced him to accelerate his plans, which meant the young genius had most likely found a way around the lockdown. Walter felt a spark of pride for the boy, despite his frustration that Paige and Ralph had gotten involved when he'd worked so hard to keep them out of this.

As concerned as he was for their safety, though, it seemed he had more pressing issues. Cabe was almost certainly outside, and if he was there, so were the rest of the geniuses, along with a team supplied by Homeland. And Collins wasn't going down quietly. "What happens in ten minutes? What did you do?"

Mark smirked, pressing the tips of his fingers together before pushing them apart. "Kaboom."

The color drained from Walter's face. Explosives. Collins must have set them up while he was sedated. Mostly likely, they were wired around the entrances to trigger as soon as the lockdown ended. Mark made it clear that he wanted Walter to witness Scorpion's destruction, so the blast would be large enough to target the first group into the building but small enough not to take out the entire garage. Even if the other geniuses weren't in the immediate radius, Cabe certainly was, and Collins would surely use that moment of chaos to hit the rest of the team in some way. "Where did you get the materials?" Walter asked to keep Mark engaged while he thought. "You came to the garage empty-handed, and you can't leave any more than I can."

"True," the man answered, pushing his hands into his pockets. "But this garage was my home once too, Walter. I've stored quite a few things here over the years. Just like Paige's antidote."

The antidote had been stored in a temperature-controlled case in the wall. Toby and Cabe had to rip apart the plaster to retrieve it. That meant… "You left a bomb in the garage?" he barked. Collins was trying to eliminate the team, of course, but that was reckless even by Mark's standards. "And what were you going to do if it went off accidentally?"

"Pop a bottle of champagne?" he shrugged. "It wasn't finished, Walter, relax. You know I like to be here for the show. What does it matter to you now, anyway? We're almost done."

_Almost done. You need to focus._ Walter took inventory. He had gone roughly twelve days without a full night's sleep, eating only about one meal a day in that time. He was weak, exhausted, and bound, but if he could just find a way to take Collins out of the game for thirty seconds, he'd be able to get a message to the team.

That last predicament, at least, he could overcome with the right opportunity, which he received seconds later as Mark grabbed the back of his chair and turned it around to face the door. "Be sure to wave," his former partner said mockingly, letting out a sharp chuckle before Walter heard his steps hitting the floor in the opposite direction. Inhaling a deep breath to brace himself for the discomfort, he popped his left thumb out of its socket, swallowing his hiss of pain. It was just enough leeway to free that hand and discard the cable quietly before turning his attention to his ankles. He didn't quite manage to catch the second restraint before it fell to the floor, alerting the other genius. "Bad idea, Walter," Mark admonished as he turned around, footsteps coming closer. Now or never.

He leapt to his feet and kicked the chair toward Collins, catching the man off guard. Walter was hit by an immediate wave of dizziness, but he didn't have time to dwell on it as the cockiness in Mark's expression dissolved into feral anger. _Thirty seconds._ That was all he needed; he didn't have to defeat Collins permanently. Whatever happened to him after the team cleared away from the garage was acceptable, as long as he knew they were unharmed. And they, in turn, would keep Paige and Ralph safe even if he couldn't.

Deep down, he'd always known it would end like this. There was a price for his mistakes with Collins, and he was finally prepared to pay it.

Walter charged at Mark just as he shoved the chair away, tackling him to the ground. Collins always had a distaste for physical violence, but that wasn't stopping him now. Each hit he landed blurred Walter's vision, but the genius pushed through it, returning the blows with as much strength as he could scrape together. It was worse than fighting dirty; they fought smart, angling their attacks to inflict maximum damage. Walter could smell the steely odor of blood dripping down his face, making it a struggle to breathe out of his mouth and nose. Collins took advantage of his gasps for air and seized the upper hand, flipping them around until Walter was on the floor, the blood starting to choke him as he laid on his back. He tried in vain to lift his head as Collins shoved him back down by his shoulders. "Give up, Walter," Mark growled. "This is what you deserve. You can't stop it."

In normal circumstances, he was much stronger than Collins, but his muscles were too fatigued to move and he knew he had no reasonable chance of winning this fight. That was why Mark chose tonight, waiting until Walter had already weakened himself, isolated himself, punished himself before swooping in to finish him off. He'd gotten a few solid strikes in, but it wouldn't be enough to overtake Collins, and in seven minutes, everything important to him would be gone forever.

Walter's last thoughts weren't that surprising. Guilt over letting his actions and emotions put his team—his family—in danger. Hope that they might still find a way to survive, even if he didn't. And a rush of what he could now recognize as love, temporarily overshadowing the pain in every inch of his body. Love for Megan, for Cabe, for the geniuses, for Ralph. And for her.

He'd put Paige through so much. So much hurt, so much uncertainty, so much anxiety. Walter hoped that when she thought about him, she wouldn't think about those things. She would just remember the good.

_The syringe, Walter. Where is it?_

What? The genius blinked as his reminiscing was interrupted by her voice in his head, though logically he knew that he'd simply connected the memory of her sedation, somewhere deep in his mind, with the realization that the syringe Collins used to sedate _him_ had to be somewhere in the garage. Walter was barely able to see through his swimming vision, but he used the last ounce of energy in his body to focus. He was such an idiot. He could just barely make out the shape in the pocket of Mark's blue shirt. His reflexes were too slow to simply grab for it, though; he needed a distraction.

"You were right, Collins," Walter sputtered, the metallic taste repulsive on his tongue. He turned his head to the side and spit out the excess blood, finally regaining some control over his airflow. "I told you I didn't have a choice when I committed you, but I did." There was a flicker of uncertainty on Mark's face as he stared down at Walter, and the genius jumped on it. "It wasn't to save you; it was to save myself. I sacrificed you and got everything I wanted. And you know what?"

Collins eased his grip slightly on Walter's shoulders. That was enough of an opening for Walter to twist his arm out of the man's grasp and throw one more punch, which connected hard, albeit at an awkward angle, with Mark's jaw. "I would do it again. It's what you deserved." Adrenaline burned through his veins as he grabbed the syringe, jamming it into the other genius's chest and pushing the plunger forward with his thumb.

Mark's body stiffened, eyes growing wide. Walter pushed away and stood up, nearly falling as his legs buckled under him. He regained stability and crouched down, trying to think clearly through his disorientation. The syringe was empty, but Collins was at risk of a fatal embolism or hemorrhage if the needle had successfully pierced an artery. He was already losing consciousness and needed emergency medical attention. But the team needed Walter more. "I'm sorry," the genius murmured before fumbling for the landline, hands shaking as he held it to his ear.

Nothing.

_No, no, no, no._ Cabe's team had cut the line to prevent Mark from calling any of his contractors. Walter dragged his hand over his face, clearing away more evidence of his confrontation as he considered the alternatives. His cell phone was destroyed, and Collins had never brought one in. The signal was likely to be jammed, anyway, preventing any communication from inside the garage to the outside…even if he could remember where the hell he'd left his comm. There was no time to boot up his computer and lifting the lockdown himself would automatically trigger the bomb. Whatever glitch Ralph had introduced into the system would probably make it too difficult to restart the lockdown manually. Which left one highly undesirable option.

Even the fourth…fifth smartest person in the world couldn't be an expert in everything, and bombs certainly fell into that category. He slammed his fist on the desk, grunting at the pain from his dislocated finger. Walter couldn't do this on his own…he needed Happy.

Or maybe he just needed Happy's work.

A hazy idea formed in his mind and Walter stumbled over to the mechanic's workstation, tearing through her desk drawers. He didn't know how long he had until his body gave up and he collapsed, but he prayed it was just a few seconds longer than it would take to save his team. He finally found the metal box on one of her shelves, relieved that it was still lumped in with her discarded projects and hadn't been fixed yet.

Walter flipped up the lid and pulled out the blue cylinder. Happy built it as a powerful external power source that could charge an item without cables, but a glitch in the hardware caused it to fry the circuits of every device she tried it on. He supposed he should thank Toby for distracting her enough with their relationship that she'd never gotten around to making it work. If Collins was smart, he'd wired both the front and back entrances to the garage, so Walter chose to start at the front door, where he knew Cabe would be. He set the defective battery against the explosive, careful not to disrupt any of the wires attached to it, and turned it on. It wasn't long before the device overheated, nearly burning him, and smoke billowed from the core as the circuits shorted out.

_Forty seconds left._ Walter forced his way to the back door, faltering slightly. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he couldn't hear his own thoughts, but he repeated the motion. The battery was already overheated and Walter's breath caught as his skin started to blister, but he saw the reassuring sparks of the fried circuit and dropped the device, slumping down against the wall.

A deafening sound filled the garage again as the lockdown lifted seconds later, steel plates receding from the doors and windows. Walter was grateful for the darkness outside as agents crashed through the entrances and filled the building, shouting and swarming around him. He smiled. They were safe.

Cabe's voice sounded out distantly before he pushed through the sea of nameless faces, dropping to his knees and scanning the genius for injuries. "I'm okay," Walter muttered, feeling another intense wave of wooziness. He wouldn't be able to stay conscious for very much longer, but fortunately he didn't need to. "Did you get Collins?"

"Yeah," the agent said quietly, but he didn't sound relieved, only solemn. "We did."

Walter let out a rattled sigh and pressed his lips together. "He's dead, isn't he?" The agent didn't answer, but he knew. Somehow he just knew.

"We'll make sure this time," was the last thing Walter heard before he passed out.


	6. Passed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thank you all very much for reading.

"He's safe, Paige."

"Oh my god." Her hand flew up to her mouth, tears springing into her eyes. Paige had avoided putting the call on speaker until she was sure there wouldn't be any bad news to break to her son, but when she squeezed Ralph's fingers and gave him a reassuring nod, his smile was even larger than hers. "Are you sure? What happened? Is Collins in custody?"

The agent cleared his throat. "I think it's best to tell you everything when you get back. But you're no longer in any danger. I've booked a flight for you back to LA at eleven, will that be enough time?"

"Of course. We'll be on it."

"I know Walter's plan was to come to you, but I don't think he should be traveling with his injuries. And…" The older man hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "He'll pull through physically, but mentally…it's not great, Paige. I think you should understand that he's shaken up, and he might be nervous about seeing you both."

Paige frowned, casting a sideways glance to Ralph. "Nervous?"

"I haven't been able to get the full story, but he's pretty skittish around the team. Collins must have done a number on him. I know he's desperate for you guys to come home; I just want you to be prepared. Happy and I will pick you up from the airport and brief you."

The liaison thanked him and hung up the phone. The young genius was grinning, a light in his eyes she hadn't seen in twelve long days. "We're going home?" he asked hopefully.

Paige pulled him in for a tight embrace, and this time, he didn't back away. "We're going home, kid."

* * *

"Wait here with Sylvester, okay?" Ralph nodded, and Paige kissed the top of his head. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

She plastered on a smile for her son, but he didn't see the worry on her face as she walked away. Every cell in her body was aching to see Walter, but knowing what he'd been forced to do…she wasn't sure he would ever be the same. Collins may have been gone for good, but it looked like they might still be battling his ghost for a while.

Paige hesitated before rounding the corner into Walter's room. He was sitting in his hospital bed, looking down at his hands until he heard her and lifted his head. Her breath caught; there was barely an inch of his face that wasn't bruised, and he looked like he'd lost fifteen pounds since she saw him last.

For a long second, they just stared at each other, and Paige realized that she wouldn't quite believe he was there until she touched him. Dropping her purse into a chair, she crossed the steps to his bed and leaned over, capturing his lips with hers. She wasn't as gentle as she knew she should be, considering the extent of his injuries, but it was already taking all of her restraint to keep her hands off of him. She settled for resting them over his and linking their fingers together. When they both ran out of breath and the angle at which she was standing became uncomfortable, she pulled back and lowered onto the mattress next to him, not letting go of his battered palms. "I'm so sorry, Walter."

He'd returned the kiss deeply enough to assure her that he was happy to see her, but he kept glancing down now, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with her. "Is Ralph here?"

"Yes. I wanted to check on you first before he came in."

"In case I was a mess?" the genius joked halfheartedly, cracking a smile that faded quickly. "I don't know if you want him to see me like this."

He wasn't talking about the bruising. Paige recognized the doubt in his expression; it was the same one he wore every time the Baghdad incident came back to haunt him. While the death toll wasn't nearly as high this time, his experience had been much more personal.

She moved closer to him on the mattress, tentatively bringing her fingers up to graze his temple. Walter flinched slightly before relaxing into the contact, and Paige blinked as she felt tears welling up again. "You're his hero, Walter. Of course I want him to see you."

He dropped his head again but didn't break contact with her hand, which she slid down to the uninjured area on the back of his neck, needing to preserve some connection with him. "I didn't…Paige, I didn't…" His voice was faint, like the words were physically painful to say. "I didn't mean to."

"Hurt Collins?" she prompted gently. Walter nodded. "I know that. You were in an impossible position and I am so, so sorry that you had to make that decision."

Walter furrowed his eyebrows, his fingers flexing agitatedly under hers. "I don't understand. I should…he was a murderer. I shouldn't feel guilty. But…" he trailed off.

That was perhaps the greatest difference that separated Walter and Mark—respect for human life. It was what kept Walter from the same abyss that his former partner had descended into. "But you wanted to save him. You try to save everybody. It's who you are."

"I don't know who I am right now," he whispered, shaking his head. Paige could just barely make out the glassiness in his eyes and tightened her grip on him, rubbing small circles on his skin with her thumbs.

"I do," the liaison said with as much confidence as she could manage. "You didn't do it to save yourself. You did it to save Cabe and the team, and a lot of other innocent lives. That sounds exactly like the Walter O'Brien that I know."

The genius sniffed quietly, meeting her eyes for a brief second before looking back down. A significant part of Paige had worried that by the time she came back, Walter's walls would be up and she might never get through to him. Perhaps he trusted her enough now or was just too exhausted to fight anymore. Seeing him like this broke her heart, but at least he wasn't lying that he was fine.

"Paige," he said seriously, but it felt _so good_ to hear him say her name again, "it's not just that. There are…there are other things that I've done. Bad things."

Cabe had known Walter was holding something back, but the genius was obviously terrified of their reaction to whatever it was. She couldn't imagine what might be as difficult for him to address as Mark's death, but she needed to show him that it wouldn't endanger his relationships with the team.

"In the past." She kept her voice strong, wanting to give him the assurances he wasn't able to find in himself. "Mourn them, lose sleep over them, and then talk about them when you're ready. As long as you remember that they don't change who you are now, who you've worked so hard to be. Do you understand?"

Walter let out a shaky sigh and nodded again, clutching her left hand so firmly it was losing circulation. Paige felt no compulsion to remove it, though; if not for his wounds, she would have grabbed him just as tightly the second she walked in and still not have let go. "I've been thinking. F-for a while, now." He was finally meeting her gaze, looking somehow determined and uncertain at once. "Even…even when I tried to keep you and Ralph out of harm's way, I couldn't." She breathed his name gently, but he cut her off. "Please, Paige. It's the truth. But I don't want you to suffer anymore because of me."

The liaison's eyes widened and her hand dropped from his neck. After everything they'd been through, he couldn't possibly be ending it, could he? And yet she knew it was exactly the kind of thing he would do, to protect them, prioritizing their safety over his own needs. But she wasn't going to let him this time. She would fight him on it if she had to.

"So I considered all the variables, and the only conclusion I can come to—."

Paige raked her free hand through her hair and tilted her head. "Walter, please, let's just talk about this first."

"—is that we should leave Scorpion together," he finished at the same time.

She blinked, thrown by his statement. He wasn't breaking up with her, which was…good…but the liaison still found herself baffled. "What?"

Walter pressed his lips together, seeming a little surprised by her confusion, like he was expecting her to have already considered it. "I think we should leave Scorpion together," he repeated, his tone softer. "You and Ralph have been through so much already, and even though Collins is gone, I believe it's clear that the team and I are not capable of fully protecting you in high-stakes situations. The past twelve days have confirmed to me that I don't want to be apart from you for any extended length of time, so…this is our most logical option."

" _Walter_ ," she sighed, laughing quietly. Both of her hands went to his, her fingers barely drifting over his discolored knuckles. "The fact that you would even be willing to do that is…" Paige couldn't find the right word, so she just smiled. "But it's not the answer. It's not what you want. And it's not what Ralph and I want either."

"What I want is for you both to feel safe."

"Come on, Walter, life isn't safe. Sometimes we're at risk, and I don't like that either. But you can't avoid risk altogether." Paige shifted her position and bent one leg on the bed, crossing her other one over her extended ankle so she could face him more comfortably. "Do you want to know what Ralph said to me, before I agreed to let him hack into your system?"

Walter didn't answer, so she took that as a sign to continue.

"He told me that he didn't know why he was a genius, but if there was a reason, that it was to help people." She noticed the corner of his mouth curl up at that. "It's your purpose to run Scorpion, Walter…to make a difference. It's also Ralph's purpose, and I may not be a genius, but I think it's mine now too. So we have to stay."

The genius was quiet for a long time, mulling over her answer. "Okay," he said finally, swallowing hard. "Can I see him?"

"I'll go get him." Paige made it as far as the door and stilled, rolling her eyes as she watched Toby and Ralph attempting to stealthily sneak away from the room. "You can stop eavesdropping and come in now."

She would have to give Ralph a lecture about respecting privacy later, but that could wait. Paige watched as the young genius eagerly bolted in and jumped up next to Walter on the bed, apparently unfazed by his appearance. They were both beaming and Paige knew the three of them were going to make it to the other side of all this.

"So," Walter said, extending his hand to ruffle Ralph's hair. "Want to tell me how you beat my software?"

* * *

"I know it's not easy," Cabe said out of the blue a few days later, while they were eating Chinese takeout on the roof. Walter paused spearing broccoli on his fork and glanced up, raising one eyebrow. "Taking a life. Any life. It's difficult. But I…" The agent pushed his own container away, relaxing back into his chair. "I want to make sure you know that you made the right decision."

"I know," Walter answered casually before turning his attention back to his meal. Cabe looked unconvinced.

"Thirty casualties." The genius didn't lift his head that time, but Cabe could see the way his back stiffened. "I saw the full incident report today. There would have been at least thirty casualties if those explosives detonated. And you know Collins wasn't the type to surrender. We would have had no option but to take him out ourselves. There was only one possible outcome, son."

Walter took a sip from his glass of water and set it down, running his thumb along the edge as he thought. Finally, he shook his head and said, "You didn't know him."

"So tell me."

He looked slightly annoyed at Cabe's pressing, but the older man was determined to help him work through every stage of his grief instead of just settling somewhere around denial. It was the only way any of them would survive this. "Everything was a game," Walter explained as he stared out at the skyline. "Collins always had a way out. I don't know what it was this time, but…I don't think he planned to die."

"What he planned to do was kill a lot of people. I know it doesn't make it easier, but he wasn't innocent."

The genius scratched his cheek. "No. But Randall Horton was."

He came clean about Horton to Cabe first, then the geniuses, and finally to Paige. It was the single most terrifying moment of his life, waiting for her reaction. Walter didn't want her to know—didn't want the way she looked at him to change—but he didn't want to keep that big of a secret from her, either, and when she responded by wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder, sitting with him in silence for what felt like hours, he was glad he told her.

"You didn't kill Randall Horton," Cabe answered bluntly.

"I'm still guilty."

"You don't know that. You have fragments of memories, but you don't know exactly how you were involved. If you want answers, I'll help you find them. But whatever the truth is, Walter, it can't be worse than what you're imagining. You've made some mistakes, but you're not the bad guy. You never have been."

* * *

"I don't know why I'm here. This is ridiculous. You would think this was ridiculous too."

Walter stopped to greet an elderly man that walked past and watched curiously as the man reached a spot a few rows down and placed a white rose on the ground. He knew that was customary, but the idea of placing flowers on Mark's grave was even more ludicrous than the fact that Walter was currently sitting in a cemetery and talking to a slab of stone.

"You can't hear me. Theoretically, you still exist. Or your energy does. You're not…gone. But you still can't hear me, so I guess I'm just here symbolically."

He brought his knees up to his chest, circling his arms around them. The marker didn't say much: Mark's full name and dates of birth and death. He'd been at a loss for what to add after that. Distilling his complicated relationship with Collins into a single phrase was too daunting, so with the team's encouragement, he settled on _genius_.

"After you, uh, abducted us, when I thought you were dead—the first time—Paige told me that it was okay to grieve you. To feel…something…about losing you despite everything you'd done. I guess that's still true."

There were fewer nightmares now. Fewer moments when Walter would close his eyes and see Collins, right at the end. Fewer days when he avoided the lower level of the garage completely because the memories were too overwhelming.

Walter wasn't used to opening up to the team, about anything, but he didn't want to internalize this for fifteen years like he'd done with Baghdad, so he let them help. Sometimes that meant talking about it, or not talking about it, or tearing apart the garage systematically to find everything that Collins had hidden there and then starting a long-overdue remodel.

"I don't think I'll ever understand everything about you. But I know that I probably understood you better than anyone else. And even though you made my life a living hell and threatened everyone I care about, I still feel like we're…connected, somehow?" He shrugged. "That's not very logical. But neither were you."

The genius ran one hand through his hair and down to the base of his neck. His muscles were starting to tense from sitting in this position and he was freezing.

"As much as I wanted you out of my life permanently, I never wanted things to happen like this. But they did, and I accept the consequences of that. I spent years putting you ahead of the team. I guess I had to make up for that. There are a lot of things I need to make up for, actually. I can't…undo the damage that you and I have caused in the world. Maybe I'll be able to pick up a few of the pieces, though, and find some redemption that way."

Walter swallowed, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.

"I think I forgive you. Or…I will forgive you. I think I'm capable of it." The genius was surprised to find his vision blurring, and he cleared his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Eventually. And then sometime after that, maybe I'll be able to forgive myself. When that day comes, I guess I'll tell you about it." Walter pushed himself to his feet, wavering briefly before resting his hand on the corner of the tombstone. "Goodbye, Mark."

He walked back slowly, letting the crisp air dry his face and steady his breathing. Paige was leaning against her car, cheeks flushed red from the cold, and reached out to circle her arms around him when was close enough. "Ready?"

Walter pulled her in closer, smiling down at her. "Yeah. I'm ready."


End file.
